Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 9

"No, that's not—" Her face flamed bright red. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Cross, I really should be going."

Before Damian could reply, she bolted out the door and fled.

He let out a soft chuckle. Interesting.

At lunch, Eleanor picked up her tray and sat down across from Isabelle. "Hey, have you checked the group chat?"

"Nah, can't be bothered." Isabelle appeared utterly unfazed, even though Eleanor was clearly jealous.

"God, I wish I could stay even half as calm as you when drama blows up." She took a bite and kept talking.

"Apparently that manuscript on your desk was planted by Jenny—you know, the one who called in sick that day. She's a new intern, so she probably didn't know any better and left it in the wrong place."

"Yeah."

Isabelle could tell most people had stopped staring at her when she walked into the cafeteria, but they still kept their distance.

"So… did Mr. Cross yell at you or something today? You looked totally spaced out when you came out of his office." Eleanor just wouldn't drop it.

"Getting chewed out by him is par for the course. The guy's got a face like a block of ice," Isabelle muttered.

Eleanor lowered her voice. "Actually, he never yells at anyone."

"Really? I think you're just distracted by how insanely hot he is. You can't be that shallow, Eleanor."

Isabelle snorted and set down her utensils, then glanced up to see Damian walking over with his tray.

She immediately kicked Eleanor under the table to shut her up and forced a bright smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Cross."

She acted as if nothing had happened that morning.

Eleanor jolted and quickly buried her face in her food.

"Mm." Damian didn't even glance their way. He just sat down by the window and began discussing business with Brian.

"You don't think they heard us, do you?" Eleanor whispered nervously.

"Nah, we were just trash-talking our boss. Saying a few things behind his back won't get us into trouble." Isabelle wasn't worried at all.

Isabelle somehow got through the rest of the day, and the second she clocked out, she changed into a striking red dress and fixed her makeup to perfection.

She drove straight to Gary's office and parked in the most conspicuous spot available.

People began pouring out of the building after work, all staring at the stunning woman who'd appeared out of nowhere.

Isabelle smiled to herself. That was exactly the reaction she'd wanted.

Gary had the nerve to stroll out looking carefree and utterly unbothered, as if he had nothing on his conscience. He had no idea he was about to walk straight into her trap.

The second he spotted her, Gary couldn't tear his eyes away. He'd never seen her dolled up like this before. She looked absolutely breathtaking, as if she'd stepped straight off a magazine cover—an absolute knockout.

"Gary."

Unusually warm, she walked right up to him in full view of everyone and slipped her arm around his waist.

Gary looked utterly stunned, barely able to believe his eyes.

Isabelle never acted this way. She normally kept things low-key—holding hands at most, maybe a quick peck on the forehead. This level of intimacy was completely out of character.

Isabelle hugged him while mentally cussing him out from head to toe. This is so fucking gross.

But when dealing with a shameless bastard, she had to be even more shameless to get even.

Gary gazed down at her adoringly.

She could feel every pair of eyes around them burning into her.

Isabelle put on a sugary smile, took his hand, and acted all lovey-dovey. "Come on, let's go get dinner."

"Sure."

Gary treated her like she was made of glass, opening the passenger door for her and even fastening her seatbelt before circling around to the driver's side.

The second his back was turned, Isabelle brushed off the spots he'd touched and wiped her hands clean with a tissue.

Gary asked, "I made us a reservation at Grand Palace. How does that sound?"

Gary came from money, and Grand Palace was one of his usual haunts. It cost thousands per person, with a single meal easily running up to ten thousand dollars.

Normally, Isabelle would have declined, but she figured why the hell not? She might as well eat and drink well—no point in depriving herself.

"Sounds perfect." Isabelle flashed him a sweet, fake smile.

*****

Damian! He was here too?

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